


Speechless

by LibraryMage



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-05-14 10:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: After Ezra was captured by the Empire, the Ghost crew expected he would be injured when they found him.  But they never imagined something like this.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> general warning for references to torture
> 
> written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt "damaged vocal cords"

Whatever sedative the Imperials had given Ezra was wearing off, which meant the kid would probably be feeling the full extent of his injuries any minute now.  And they were still at least an hour from the rest of the fleet where Ezra could get the medical attention he needed.

Kanan sat on the edge of the bunk beside Ezra as the kid’s eyes opened sluggishly.  He took Ezra’s hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Kanan said.  “We’re almost back to Garel.”

Ezra’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.  Ezra took a deep breath before he tried again.  But once again, there was no sound.  Ezra’s eyes went wide, fear spilling across their bond as he locked eyes with Kanan.  He pulled his hand out of Kanan’s grip, clutching at his throat.

“Ezra,” Kanan said, his heart going cold as he tries to deny the conclusion forming in his mind.  “Ezra, please say something.”

Tears began to well up in Ezra’s eyes as he shook his head.  His hand fell away from his neck, his eyes glazing over as he stares blankly, not at Kanan, but _through_ him.  His mouth moved yet again, but still there was no sound.

Ezra couldn’t speak.

Not just _speak._  Ezra couldn’t make any sound at all.

“It’ll be okay,” Kanan said, fighting to keep the fear out of his voice as he took Ezra’s hands in his.  “We’ll be there soon.  You’ll be okay.”

* * *

 

Ezra leaned against Kanan’s side.  His master’s arm was around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly.  Kanan almost seemed more afraid that he was, and he was _terrified_.  His ears were ringing so much it was hard for him to focus on what the medic was telling him, with only bits and pieces of her words slipping through and reaching him.

_The damage is extensive._

_No guarantee._

_May never get your ability to speak back._

It wasn’t just speech.  He couldn’t make any sound at all.  On the journey back to the fleet, he’d cried, but every sob, every whimper, every scream had been completely silent.  His voice was just _gone_ , like the Imperials had ripped it out of him.

“Ezra?”

Ezra jumped at the sound of Kanan’s voice.  As he looked up, he realized that Kanan and the medic were both staring at him, as if they were expecting something from him.  He looked back and forth between the two of them, not knowing how to communicate that he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing.

“She asked if you understand,” Kanan said.

Ezra froze up.  He’d been so lost in his fear that he didn’t even know what Kanan was talking about.

“You weren’t listening, were you?” the medic asked.

Ezra shook his head, pressing his mouth into a tight line and looking down at the floor as tears stung at his eyes again.

“I said that trying to speak could damage your vocal cords even more,” she said.  Her voice was patient, as if he didn’t mind repeating herself.  “So you shouldn’t try yet.  Understand?”

Ezra nodded.

“Do you have any questions?”

Ezra’s shoulders went tense at the question.  An awkward silence fell as the medic seemed to realize her mistake.

“Here,” she said.  She turned away for a moment, retrieving a small pad of flimsi and a pen and handing them to Ezra.  “You can write them down.”

“He can't –” Kanan stopped himself before he could say another word.

“Do you need help?” he asked.  Ezra shook his head.  He couldn’t write well, but this one, he could do on his own, at least.

He gripped the pen tightly in an attempt to stop his hand from shaking as he hastily scrawled his question.  _When can I try?_

As he handed the pad back to the medic, she glanced at it briefly before looking at him again.

“You need to wait at least two weeks,” she said.  “I want to see you back here then, and I’ll let you know if you need to wait any longer.”

Ezra nodded.  The medic held out the pad of flimsi toward him again and he shook his head.  That was all he’d wanted to know.  He turned his head and looked up at Kanan, hoping his master would get the silent message that he just wanted to go _home_.

“Are we done here?” Kanan asked.

“We are,” the medic said.  “Just remember to bring him back in two weeks.”

“I will,” Kanan said.  He stood up and Ezra slid off the exam table, landing lightly on his feet beside him.

Kanan’s arm didn’t leave Ezra’s shoulders as the two of them walked away from the command ship’s medical bay.  Ezra could feel his jaw trembling as they made their way back toward where the _Ghost_ was docked.

“It’ll be okay, Ezra,” Kanan said.  “We’ll figure this out.  Until you get your voice back, we can make this work.”

Ezra nodded, trying to match Kanan’s show of optimism with his own.  He knew he might never get his voice back, and Kanan knew it, too.


	2. Day 3

Ezra almost wished it was a sure thing that his voice was never coming back.  At least then he wouldn’t have to worry about damaging his vocal cords further and losing his chance.

Avoiding trying to speak was nearly impossible.  It was reflexive.  He would catch himself opening his mouth, about to try and force sound out without even thinking about it.  It had only been three days.  If he kept this up, he was sure to damage his vocal cords beyond repair long before the two weeks the medic had given him.

As he trudged into the galley, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him for a moment before the others looked away, trying not to stare.

“Hi,” Sabine said, her voice far too cheerful for this early in the morning.

Ezra opened his mouth, forgetting again, before he silently raised his hand in greeting.  He kept his eyes down as he slid into a seat at the table.  Kanan placed a plate in front of him before putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

Ezra nodded, still not looking up at his master.  It wasn’t true, and he was sure that Kanan could tell, but it wasn’t like he could talk about how he felt.

“I’ve gotta say, it’s nice having some peace and quiet for a change,” Sabine said, gently kicking his shin under the table.

“Sabine,” Hera said, her voice stern.

Ezra quickly shook his head, forcing a small smile onto his face as he tried to communicate that it was okay, he didn’t mind, he thought it was funny.  None of that was true.  He _did_ mind, just not for the reasons they thought he did.  Normally, he would shoot back at Sabine, they would argue, odds are she would win, but that wasn’t the point.  Now, he couldn’t say anything to her, couldn’t say she was louder than he was or that they could trade and she could spend two weeks without getting the smell of paint all over the ship.

“Sorry,” Sabine said.

Ezra just kept staring downward, poking at his food.  It had only been three days, and he was already so tired of people feeling sorry for him.


	3. Day 5

Ezra’s throat was burning.  As he opened his eyes, frantically kicking at the blanket that had tangled around his legs, he was screaming.  Or trying to, at least.  No sound was coming out of his mouth as he thrashed on the bed.  He couldn’t sit up.  It was like the restraints were around his limbs again, holding him down on the table.  He could still feel the device they’d put around his neck when they decided they’d had enough of his screaming.

“Kid?”

Zeb’s voice cut through the haze of panic that surrounded Ezra.  The Lasat was standing beside the bunk, reaching out toward him.

Ezra forced himself to sit up and shook his head to warn Zeb away from touching him.  With shaking hands, he formed the sign Sabine had taught him for “need” and began to spell out Kanan’s name.

He jumped off the bunk only for his knees to give out.  Zeb caught him before he could fall and held onto him until he got his balance back.

“Easy,” Zeb said.

Ezra shook his head and pulled away from Zeb’s touch, bolting from the room.  He stumbled down the corridor until he was pounding on Kanan’s door.  When the door opened, Ezra stared up at Kanan, still shaking as tears stung at his eyes.

“Come here,” Kanan said, gathering Ezra up in his arms.

He led Ezra through the door and gently nudged him to sit on the lower bunk.  Ezra sank onto the bunk, staring blankly into the space in front of him.  Kanan sat beside him, his arms around Ezra’s shoulders.  Ezra buried his face in Kanan’s shoulder, holding onto him as he silently cried.

“It’s okay,” Kanan said, cradling Ezra against his chest.  “You’re okay.”

His face still pressed into his teacher’s shoulder, Ezra pulled away the mental wall he’d built up around their bond after his rescue.  Unable to say any of it out loud, he let his pain and fear flow across the bond.  Memories leapt to the surface of his mind, and he didn’t know if Kanan could see them or not.  The restraints, the electricity surging through him, that _thing_ they’d put around his neck that had stolen his voice from him.  He let all of it surge through his mind and pour out across the bond.

Kanan just held him, taking all of it, trying to lift the burden from Ezra’s mind as much as he could.

Finally, Ezra’s shoulders dropped as he slumped over slightly.  He pulled back from Kanan, putting his hand to his throat, his eyes widening.

“What is it?” Kanan asked.

Ezra’s hand dropped from his neck and he slowly tried to form the letters Sabine had taught him.  His movements were slow and jerking as he spelled out the words.

_Tried to scream._

“I’ll take you to see the medic in the morning,” Kanan said, gently tucking Ezra’s hair back behind his ear.

Ezra let out another silent sob, once again clinging to Kanan.  Kanan cradled Ezra against his chest, quietly soothing him until Ezra had cried himself out and felt his eyelids grow heavy.


	4. Day 6

“The damage you did by screaming was minimal,” the medic said.  “But it could have been much worse.”

Ezra nodded to show that he understood.

“How often have you been having nightmares?” she asked.

Ezra picked up the flimsi and pen that she’d placed within reach when he first walked in and hastily scrawled the words _Every night_.

“We need to minimize the chances of this happening again,” the medic said.  “Next time, you could do a lot more damage.”

Ezra shifted nervously where he sat.  He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.  Kanan’s hand tightened around his shoulder as he sensed Ezra’s anxiety.

“There’s a medication I can give you,” the medic said.  “It will put you into a deep enough sleep that –”

Ezra was already shaking his head.

“Ezra –”

He slammed his hand down on the exam table, shaking his head even faster.  He couldn’t scream _no_ , so it was all he could do.

He jumped to his feet, wrenching away from Kanan as the man tried to stop him, and bolted from the room.

He wouldn’t let them drug him to sleep.  Not again.

He’d never let it happen again.


	5. Day 10

Ezra tapped Kanan’s shoulder and the man jumped.  Ezra smiled.  He’d been trying to move quietly and hide his Force signature.  Either he had succeeded or Kanan had been too distracted by something else to notice him.

As Kanan turned to face him, Ezra carefully spelled out with his hands, _Training?_

“You sure?” Kanan asked.

Ezra nodded.  He needed to think about something other than the crushing silence he was trapped in whenever he was alone.

“Cargo bay,” Kanan said, a small smile twitching across his face.  “Ten minutes.”

Ezra nodded, smiling as he turned away and headed back to his cabin to retrieve his lightsaber.

* * *

 

“We’ll take it easy for now,” Kanan said.

Ezra winced and averted his eyes.

“Ezra, your vocal cords aren’t the only thing that’s injured,” Kanan said.

Ezra sighed, but nodded anyway.  His vocal cords were the most obvious injury, but the Imperials had held him for more than two weeks, and every day had been hour after hour of torture.  His limbs still ached and he grew exhausted more quickly than he should.  He knew all of that, and he knew it meant that he shouldn’t push himself, but that didn’t mean he had to like it when Kanan insisted he take things slow.

Kanan ignited his blade and Ezra did the same, smiling as the familiar weight of the weapon settled into his palm.  He took a slow step backward, increasing the distance between him and Kanan, his gaze fixed on the man’s blade.  The two of them stood still for a moment, sizing each other up, waiting.

Kanan sprang toward Ezra, his blade slashing through the air toward Ezra’s left side.  As Ezra moved to parry the blow, Kanan pulled his blade back and changed direction, the end of his lightsaber darting toward Ezra’s stomach.

Ezra leapt out of the way and lunged toward Kanan, sweeping his own blade toward his master’s neck.  Kanan blocked his attack, his blade locking against Ezra’s and pushing down.  Ezra gritted his teeth as he pushed back, trying to stop Kanan from shoving him to the floor.

He felt it a second too late as Kanan’s foot hooked around his ankle and pulled.  He fell backward, managing to hold onto his lightsaber as his back struck the floor.  He tightened his grip on the weapon, preparing to raise it to defend himself against Kanan’s next attack, only to find himself frozen.

His eyes widened as he saw Kanan standing over him, his lightsaber raised, ready to bring it swinging down through the air.  The harsh lights of the cargo bay that shone behind him obscured his features and the weapon in his hand.

He knew it was Kanan.  He _knew_.  But all he saw was the figure standing over him, an object in their hand, while he lay on cold metal, paralyzed by fear.

Barely aware he had regained the ability to move, Ezra viciously kicked at Kanan’s knee.  He faintly heard Kanan gasp in pain, but he was barely listening.  He rolled over, getting on his hands and knees before bolting to a corner of the cargo bay.

He huddled in the corner, shaking as he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead down on top of them.  He pressed his hands down over his ears and bit down on the inside of his cheek.

 _You’re not there,_ he told himself.  _You’re not there, not there, not there._

Feeling something warm next to him, he looked up and jumped when he saw Kanan kneeling beside him.

“Ezra,” Kanan said, his voice soft, “it’s okay.  You’re safe.  You’re home.  We got you back.”

Slowly, Ezra leaned himself against Kanan’s side, clinging to him as Kanan slid an arm around his shoulders.

With one shaking hand, Ezra reached into his pocket and drew out the small pad of flimsi and the pen that he kept inside it.  He gripped the pen tightly, fighting to stop his hand from shaking so that he could write.

_I’m sorry._

“Don’t be,” Kanan said.  “It’s okay.”

Ezra shook his head before turning his attention back to the flimsi.

 _I know you won’t hurt me_ , he wrote.  He froze, the pen pressed against the flimsi, not knowing how to put his feelings into words.  It was true that he knew Kanan would never hurt him, but for a split second, that hadn’t been Kanan standing over him.  It had been one of at least half a dozen people who’d tortured him, their features blurring together through a haze of pain and drugs and sleeplessness to become one terrifying, faceless shadow.

Finally, he shoved the pad and pen back into his pocket.  He leaned against Kanan’s side once again, blinking away tears as he stared blankly at the wall on the other end of the cargo bay.  Kanan’s arm drew tighter around Ezra’s shoulders, pulling him close.  Ezra felt Kanan brush up against his mind, quietly reassuring him, and he knew that Kanan understood.


	6. Day 14

Ezra shifted nervously where he sat on the exam table.  He knew it had only been a few minutes, but it felt like he’d been waiting for an hour.

The medics had run their tests and would have the results soon.  It wouldn’t be long now before Ezra knew if he could start trying to use his voice.

He glanced over at Kanan, who was leaning against the wall beside him.  He forced a small smile onto his face, trying to communicate that he was feeling optimistic about this, though it wasn’t entirely true.  His thoughts kept circling back to the night that he’d woken up trying to scream.  The damage may have been minimal, but what if it was just enough to extend the length of time he couldn’t try to talk?

Kanan reached out, putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and squeezing tightly, giving his own small smile.  Before he could say anything, the door opened, and Ezra’s eyes snapped toward the medic who walked through it, his eyes widening slightly.

The medic smiled when she saw Ezra perched on the edge of the table, waiting to hear what she had to say.

“I just finished reviewing the scans,” she said.  “Your vocal cords are healed enough that you can start trying to speak whenever you’re ready.”

Ezra smiled again, and it was genuine this time.

“You might not be able to at first,” the medic said.  “And your odds are better now, but there _is_ still a chance that you won’t regain your ability to speak at all.”

Ezra’s shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping down to his feet.

“Is there any way we’ll be able to tell whether or not he’ll get his voice back?” Kanan asked.

“I know it’s going to be difficult in our situation,” the medic said, “but if you can get him to a medic every few months, they can see whether he’s continuing to heal.”

As Kanan nodded, the medic turned her attention back to Ezra.

“For now, you don’t need to come back unless you have any concerns, alright?”

Ezra nodded.

“Just remember,” she said, “it could take a while before you start speaking again.  Don’t get discouraged if it doesn’t work at first.”

Ezra nodded again.

“Unless you have any questions, you’re free to go,” the medic said.

Ezra slid off the table, landing lightly on his feet and looking over at Kanan.

“Thanks,” Kanan said, looking over Ezra’s head toward the medic.

As they walked out of the room together, Kanan rested a hand on Ezra’s shoulder.  Ezra reached into his pocket and removed the pad and pen.  Writing while walking still wasn’t easy, but over the past two weeks, he’d gotten a little better at it out of necessity.

After a few seconds, he held up the pad so Kanan could see the single word he’d scrawled on it.

_Scared._

“I know,” Kanan said.  “You don’t have to try right away.  You can take this slow.”


	7. Day 16

_It could take a while before you start speaking again._   Ezra repeated the medic’s words over and over in his head, trying to tell himself not to worry, that just because he wasn’t speaking yet didn’t mean he never would.  It had only been two days, after all.

In some ways, it was even worse than the two weeks he’d spent reminding himself not to try speaking.  During those weeks, there had been a light at the end of the tunnel.  He’d known that if he could make it through two weeks, he could start trying to talk again.  Now, everything was uncertain.  No matter how much he tried, there was no way to know when his voice would come back, _if_ it came back at all.

 _It could take a while_ , he told himself again.  _It could take a while.  It could take a while._

As he repeated the medic’s words to himself, the other words she had said worked their way to the surface of his mind.

_Don’t get discouraged._

Easier said than done.


	8. Day 21

The word had come as a whisper in the early hours of the morning.

Ezra had woken up far too early after another string of nightmares about his captivity.  As he’d lay in his bunk, staring blankly up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come again, he’d tried to say the names of the other members of the crew.  Slowly, soft rasping sounds had begun to emerge from his throat until the name finally formed.

_Kanan._

He’d said it a few more times, his throat tightening with fear as he wondered if he’d even really said it, or if he’d been so desperate to speak again that he’d imagined it.  Each time he repeated his master’s name it was harsh, rough, sounding nothing like the voice he remembered having before.  But it was _there_.  After three weeks of waiting, fearing that he would never speak again, he could at least say the name of one member of his family.

Now, Garel’s sun had risen and the rest of the crew was already out of bed.  Ezra drew in a long, shaking breath before he palmed open the door to the galley and stepped through it.

Kanan was cooking breakfast, with Hera’s assistance.  Ezra stood just inside the door for a moment, watching them as he tried to work up the courage to speak.  He faltered for a moment, a lump forming in his throat as he wondered if he would even be able to do it.  Maybe he’d already used up all of the words he’d be able to say today.  He swallowed nervously, but the lump still remained, reminding him more and more with each passing second of the device that had been clamped around his throat and started all of this in the first place.  He squeezed his eyes shut as he forced himself to at least _try_ to speak.

“Kanan.”

His voice was still rough, still so quiet he was sure his master wouldn’t have even heard him.

He opened his eyes to see that Kanan’s shoulders had stiffened and Hera had gone perfectly still.  Kanan was the first to turn around, with Hera echoing his action a second later.  For a moment, none of them said a word as Kanan and Hera simply stared.

“You can talk?” Hera said.  She seemed hesitant, like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard.  Ezra didn’t blame her.  Until he’d seen his surrogate parents’ reactions, he hadn’t even been sure himself that he hadn’t dreamed or imagined getting his voice back.

Ezra nodded, swallowing again before speaking.

“A – a little,” he said.  “Still hard.”

The corners of his eyes began to sting and he blinked rapidly, averting his gaze and staring down at the floor as he tried to hide his tears, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.  Rapid footsteps approached him and before he even had time to look up, he felt himself being pulled into Kanan’s warm embrace.  A moment later, Hera joined them, her arms wrapping around both of them from Ezra’s other side.

“It’s okay,” Kanan said.  “Don’t push yourself.”

Ezra nodded, clinging to Kanan and Hera as tightly as he had the day they’d rescued him.  He just wanted his voice back.  He wanted to be able to thank them out loud.  He wanted to be able to tell them he was going to be okay.  He wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before, so he could put all of this behind him.

But he couldn’t.  Not yet.  For now, he would have to settle for a few words at a time.


	9. Day 30

Ezra shifted nervously beside Kanan, barely listening to the conversation going on around him as he stared down at the floor rather than looking up at the other members of the crew.  He didn't even know why he was being included in the briefing.  He didn’t need Hera to say anything for him to know that he wouldn’t be having any part in the mission.  Even though he was regaining the use of his voice, there were still times he couldn’t speak at all.  When he _could_ speak, his voice was still quiet and broken, sometimes completely inaudible to someone standing right next to him.  He knew that he’d just be a liability if he went along.

“Ezra.”

His head snapped up at the sound of Hera speaking his name.

“You’ll need to stick close to Kanan,” she said.  “Whatever happens, you don’t leave his side.”

“What?” Ezra asked, his cheeks burning as the word came out as a quiet squeak.

“You can’t reliably use your commlink,” Hera said.  “So you’ll stay with Kanan.  If anything happens, he can call for help.”

“I – I’m going with you?” Ezra asked.  The words were rough this time, like he was speaking through something caught in his throat.

“You are,” Hera said.  “Unless you’re not up for it yet.”

“I am,” Ezra said quickly.  _I can do this.  Please don’t leave me behind._

“Good,” Hera said with a smile, and Ezra could sense the faintest feeling of relief.  “Just promise me you’ll stay with Kanan.”

Ezra nodded.  If it meant finally being able to go on missions with the crew again, he was more than willing to stay by Kanan’s side this time.


	10. Day 31

_The door to the cell opened and Ezra’s heart began hammering._

_He pulled at his restraints, thrashing on the torture table he was strapped to, whimpering as the two figures drew closer._

_“Been like this for days now,” one of them said.  “He isn’t going to talk.”_

_“So why not just terminate him?”_

_Ezra whimpered again._

_“We have orders not to,” the first one said.  “Some officer wants him alive.  Whoever they are, they outrank all of us.”_

_The Inquisitors.  That had to be who they were talking about.  He couldn’t think of any other high-ranking Imperials who would care if he lived or died.  Tears began to spill from his eyes as he tugged frantically at the restraints._

_“No,” he muttered.  “No!”_

_“This should keep him quiet,” one of the guards said._

_Ezra gasped as someone grabbed his hair, wrenching his head up off the table.  Something was locked tightly around his neck and seconds later, he heard a harsh electronic whine._

_“Wh—what are you –”_

_His words were cut off by a groan as pain slowly spread through his neck, sinking deeper and deeper under his skin.  It grew more and more intense by the second, burning through skin and muscle and bone._

_He screamed._

_No.  He didn’t scream._

_No sound was coming out._

* * *

 

“No.”

“Kit.”

“ _No!_ ”

“Ezra!”

He gasped as his eyes opened.  Zeb was standing beside his bunk, one hand outstretched, resting on Ezra’s shoulder.  Ezra sat up slowly, blinking and glancing around the room as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

“You alright?” Zeb asked.

Ezra hesitated, then shook his head.  He was too tired to be able to bring himself to lie to his friend.

“The cells,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “The ones we rescued the prisoners from.  They looked exactly like the one they kept me in.”

_He managed to wrench his arm from one stormtrooper’s grip, only for the other to roughly throw him to the ground.  He couldn’t tell which one of them kicked him first; he just curled in on himself, covering his head as blows rained down on him from all sides.  His head was spinning by the time one of the ‘troopers grabbed his arm again and pulled him to his feet.  He could barely keep his balance as he was dragged down the hallway and shoved through the cell door, his eyes widening as he saw the table in front of him._

“Hey,” Zeb said.  “You still with me, kit?”

Ezra shuddered, hugging his arms around himself.  He could still feel the hands on his shoulders and legs, pinning him in place as the restraints closed around him, strapping him down to the table.

“They were going to give me to the Inquisitors,” he said, his voice hollow.  “They were coming for me.”

“Karabast,” Zeb muttered.

Silence fell for a moment and Ezra jumped as his friend’s hand rested on his knee.

“They didn’t get you,” Zeb said.  “That’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said, the word barely more than a whisper.  He shook his head, trying to clear the haze of fear that clouded his mind.  “I’m okay.  It was just a dream.”

“Have you told Kanan?” Zeb asked.  “About the Inquisitors?”

“No,” Ezra said quickly.  “And I don’t want you telling him, either.  He has enough to worry about and it’s not like it’s anything new.”

“I won't tell,” Zeb said.  He hesitated before he continued speaking.  “But I think he’d want to know.”

“And I want my voice to go back to normal,” Ezra snapped, turning away from his friend and lying back down facing the wall, pulling his blanket around himself like it would hide him from Zeb.  “Doesn’t mean it’ll happen.”

He could feel Zeb watching him for a moment longer before the Lasat retreated back to his own bunk.  Guilt gnawed at the inside of Ezra’s stomach as he heard his friend settle onto the bed below his.  Zeb had only been trying to help.  He was just worried.  They all were.

“Sorry,” Ezra muttered.

There was no response.  Zeb hadn’t heard him, and if he was being honest with himself, Ezra wasn’t sure he’d meant his friend to hear.


	11. Day 36

Ezra was angry.

Angry didn’t quite cover it, really.  He was furious.  He felt _cheated_.  He’d done so well yesterday only to have his hope snatched away from him when he’d woken up this morning.

Yesterday, he’d been able to speak.  _Really_ speak, almost like he had been before.  His voice was still hoarse, but it was _so close_ to being normal again.  None of his words had dissolved into faint squeaks or vanished halfway through.

He’d been ecstatic, wondering if this meant everything was back to normal, if he could finally put all of this behind him.

And then this morning, he’d found he couldn’t say a single word.

After a full day with his voice, he was back to wordless rasping and quiet noises that sounded too much like the whimpers the Imperials had reduced his voice to before they’d finally taken it away altogether.

Ezra stayed huddled in his bunk for most of the day.  He didn’t want to be around the others right now.  He didn’t want to see the concern in their eyes, feel it prickling at him when his back was turned and they thought he didn’t know they were staring.  He didn’t want to hear their voices; their normal, undamaged voices that no one had ever ripped away from them.

Ezra wasn’t angry.

He was furious.


	12. Day 61

_Ezra was falling behind._

_He could still see Kanan down the hallway ahead of him, but his form was growing smaller by the second as he ran farther and farther away.  Ezra was running as fast as he could, but he couldn’t keep up.  He could hear the stormtroopers drawing closer.  There were at least six of them.  They were_ going _to catch up to him; by now that was a given.  And he couldn’t take on that many alone._

_He opened his mouth to shout for Kanan, but no sound came out._

_He tried to scream, wordlessly, but still there was no sound._

_His hand instinctively clutched at his throat.  The footsteps were drawing closer and closer behind him.  They’d be on him in seconds, and Kanan was disappearing into the distance, not even realizing that Ezra was no longer behind him._

* * *

 

“You okay?”

Ezra jumped at the sound of Kanan’s voice.  He hadn’t even realized his master had walked into the room as his nightmare replayed over and over in his head.

“Yeah,” he said.  His voice was quiet, but this time, it was intentionally so.

“You’re still having the nightmares, aren’t you?” Kanan asked as he sat down beside Ezra.

Ezra looked up at him, and Kanan caught the silent question.

“I felt it this morning when you woke up,” he said.

“Oh,” Ezra said, dropping his gaze to the floor.  “Right.”

“You want to talk about it?” Kanan asked.

Ezra quickly shook his head, deciding right then that he wasn’t going to tell Kanan that the nightmare hadn’t been about the cell this time.  He didn’t want to make Kanan feel guilty about anything else, especially not now that things were almost back to normal.  He still sensed the occasional flash of guilt from his master, but that harsh, bitter feeling was slowly beginning to fade.

“I’m fine,” he said.  “Really.”

It was mostly true.  The fear of what would happen if his voice disappeared again hung over him like a dark cloud, but he reminded himself over and over that it _was_ getting better.  It had been nearly two weeks now since he’d had a day where he wasn’t able to talk at all.  His voice wasn’t back to normal; not yet.  But it was closer than it had ever been before.

This ordeal was far from over.  But he’d certainly been through worse.


End file.
